The Dangers of Home
by A Wandering Storyteller
Summary: The Omega Nebula contains the dirtiest chunk of rock in known space. It's a haven for the worst murderers, terrorists and malcontents the galaxy has to offer. And a living hell for the hopeful, desperate and morally right. Here, every living being follows only one rule. Welcome to Omega. Welcome to my home. T for language and a bit of violence. May change.


**The Dangers of Home**

Prologue: Runaway

**A/N: Hi everyone! So, this story is set in the Mass Effect timeline up to before Shepard goes to fetch the Reaper IFF. The most you'll hear of the Normandy are news reports. And perhaps a few showings of the characters. Who knows?  
Oh! And before I forget, Mass Effect and all things related to it belong to Bioware. The only thing I can really claim are my OC's.  
Now, with that out-of-the-way, on with the show!**

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This feels like the biggest mistake of my life.

I mean, I've always wanted to leave Omega, see what the galaxy has to offer. But I'd always thought I could come back afterwards. Even with everything on that rock, it's still home. And now, as I watch Omega quickly fall behind the ship, the facts hit me hard.

I can never go back.

"Who ya runnin' from, kid?"

I jump up slightly, shocked. The old man across from me smirks, his eyes mocking me. There's no way they could have caught on so fast! Maybe he's just curious.

"Who wants to know?" I shoot back, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

He laughs at me, a full-blown grin on his face. Crap! Maybe he is after me. But I covered my tracks… dammit! Old people are confusing.

"Relax kid. I'm not here to get ya." He looks at me with sympathy. "I wouldn't talk to ya otherwise."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Okay, so they haven't found out yet. Good. That means I'm safe for now. And maybe they won't chase me to the Citadel.

"So, what ya do to get in trouble on Omega?"

I laugh, "You say that as if it was hard to get in trouble on Omega."

"Have to try harder than that to lose me."

"Look, I got in trouble. Isn't that all you need to know?"

He's giving me sympathy again. God, I hate it when people do that! I don't need sympathy, or any sort of help. I can do just fine alone. Without the pity party.

"How long were you there?" I ask, pointing out the window.

"Fifteen years."

I haven't known a lot of people to stay that long. Most of them that do are mercenaries. Or Aria. But this guy seems really ancient. He couldn't be a mercenary, could he?

"Now answer my question. Who's chasin' ya?"

Well, he's certainly persistent. And I can't do anything about it on the ship. So I have to tell him. And he knows it.

I try one last time to lose him. "Why do you care, geyser?"

He gives me the dirtiest glare imaginable. I don't feel even the slightest bit sorry for him. Deserves it for getting into my business. And then he just… sits there. Doesn't say anything or move anywhere for the next few minutes. And just when I think he dropped the subject, he speaks his mind.

"How long were ya on Omega?"

At least I can answer this, "Eighteen years."

"You're lying kid." He shakes his head, "Ya don't look older than eighteen."

"That's because I am eighteen!"

Silence rings off the metallic walls. Great, just what I needed. To be singled out on an entire ship of people. Fuck my life.

"I'll ask again." He lowers his voice a little, "Who's chasin' ya?"

And yet he persists! That's it, I'm done with this. I'll fucking answer him if it's the last thing I do. Then maybe he'll leave me alone.

"Blue Suns. My brother decided to… collaborate with both the Suns and Eclipse. When he died, blame went to me."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?" I remember to keep my voice down, "You're just some random stranger on some random ship. Why do you care about my life all of a sudden?"

"'Cause you're just a kid! I wanna help ya, but ya gotta tell me why."

He wants to help me? That makes no sense at all. He must have a reason. But he said he could help me if I told him… Maybe it's not a bad idea. The Suns will post a bounty soon, anyways. He'd find out what happened eventually. And if he comes after me, I shoot him.

"…Fine. But if we're going to talk, I'd rather know your name."

He extends his hand out to me, "Jonathan Maze."

"Samantha Trace." I shake his hand, feeling slightly relived. "I guess I'll start at the beginning…"

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**A/N: And so The Dangers of Home begins! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Reviews are appreciated. They tell me what I should fix and really help me out with stories later. Bye!**


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